


my bloody valentine.

by dumpling23



Series: i'm only 17, i don't know anything [1]
Category: The Wilds (TV 2020)
Genre: Blood Kink, Dom/sub Undertones, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Hunters & Hunting, Intimidation, Sexual Tension, Toni is clueless, i love them so much it keeps me up at night, im so in love with mia healey, shelby is a total show-off
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-12 08:48:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29507151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dumpling23/pseuds/dumpling23
Summary: Shelby takes matters into her own hands in more ways than one.
Relationships: Shelby Goodkind/Toni Shalifoe
Series: i'm only 17, i don't know anything [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2167521
Comments: 2
Kudos: 48





	my bloody valentine.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all!!! Welcome to my first The Wilds fic, I'm so glad to have you here and reading. I was immediately captivated by Shoni and their enemies-to-lovers arc, and I was feeling super inspired to write a one-shot. So, in light of Erana's birthday and Valentine's Day just a few days back, here it is. 
> 
> This is from Shelby's POV, and I tried to mimic her Southern speaking mannerisms.
> 
> (P.S. If you want a Toni POV one-shot... I have one of those too, just say the word and I'll post it.)
> 
> Anyway, I thank you again for being here, and I hope you enjoy!

I’VE ONLY EVER HAD ONE HUNTING PARTNER IN MY LIFE, and it’s my father. He’s taught me everything I know, and he’ll always be my number one partner.

But I think Toni Shalifoe could be a close second.

We’re trying this new trap hunting thing. I haven’t done it before, but we had to adapt since Martha’s so darn freaked out by the spearing.

Yesterday, we traced the goats back to their little burrow, and Toni’s dug a hole — maybe about a foot and a half both wide and deep — for one to fall into. We covered it with twigs and leaves. With any luck, an unsuspecting little goat would’ve tried to walk over the hole, fell in, and we’d have dinner. Simple as that.

I’m a bit upset that I don’t have any proper tools on me. It’d be a lot faster if I had my .22, and I swear, I’d only need one round. A headshot at close range would do the trick.

But all we have is my lame cavewoman spear that doesn’t do all that much and a pair of stupid scissors. And something tells me I’m gonna have to slit this goat’s throat with the scissors, which I know won’t be pretty.

Toni and I go back up to our trap during what feels like late afternoon. We can’t tell time anymore, but when it feels like it’s been hot for a little too long, that’s how I can tell it’s the afternoon. 

“What are the odds the trap worked, like one in ten?” Toni wonders aloud, pessimistic as usual. 

“Oh, shut up, would you? You’ll see,” I reply, even though I’m not too confident myself. Anything to defy Toni. It’s fun to get her worked up. “Should we bet on it?”

“You really wanna bet on this?” 

“Why not? Got nothing better to do,” I point out.

“Fine,” she grumbles. “If we don’t catch anything, you have to not talk to me for the rest of the night.”

“What?” I laugh, turning around to look at her. “Am I really that bad?”

“The worst,” she affirms through a smile. I know I’m getting through to her. I keep walking and she asks, “What’s your bet?”

“If I’m right, and we do have a goat in there,” I begin, and then I come up with my bet—

“You have to do whatever I say.”

“That seems… loaded,” Toni says gruffly, “but you have a deal.”

“Shake on it,” I urge. “We have to shake on it.”

“Why are you getting so serious about this?” Toni asks, but I’m pretty sure she’s just doing it to get a rise out of me. She won’t. 

“It’s a rule,” I say calmly, “something my father taught me. When you make a deal, you shake hands on it and look the other person straight in the eye. That’s how it’s done.”

I stop walking and turn around again to look at her. She brushes some hair out of her face and looks up at me.

I extend my hand.

She shakes it while looking right at me, just as I told her.

I think this will be fun.

And soon enough, as we approach the trap, I hear some rustling and bleating. It's not a lot, but it's enough to convince me that we've nabbed something.

Fantastic.

“You hear that?” I say.

“Hear what?”

“Sounds like I just won a bet,” I reply, biting my lower lip in that way I know she likes. I skip excitedly up the mountainside and Toni trudges behind me.

“Oh, my God, Shelby, we actually caught it,” Toni says as we get closer. I can hear real enthusiasm in her voice. “That’s fuckin' insane.”

“I know, right?”

(I don't know why, but for some reason, every time she curses, my pulse quickens. Why does it do that?)

I put my fist out for her to bump, but she avoids it. “Don’t get corny,” she warns. My heart skips a beat.

After a little bit of searching and close listening, we locate the trap, and sure enough, there’s a goat inside. I can’t stop smiling. 

“Hello, little man,” I call out to him as I peer into the hole — I’m assuming it’s a him for some reason — and then I recite my hunter’s prayer, the one my dad taught me, which I always do before killing. 

With my eyes cast down, I murmur the words to myself quickly, “Dear Lord, thank you for sharing with me your glorious nature and abundant wildlife, grant me always, wisdom and respect in the pursuit, and keep me ever humble in the harvest. Amen.”

As I make a cross over my chest with my right hand, Toni says, “Was that really necessary?”

“Yes,” I say matter-of-factly. “It’s important. God gave us this beautiful creature today, and it’s important we treat it right.”

“God doesn’t care about your success in the hunt or whatever, and He doesn’t care about this stupid little goat,” she mocks. I frown, but I ignore her and get down on the ground. She’s just trying to get me mad.

But that’s what I like about Toni: she’s a challenge.

“Scissors,” I demand, holding my palm out like I’m on one of those medical soaps and they’re in the operating room asking for a scalpel.

“What?” I forget how slow this girl can be sometimes.

“Scissors,” I repeat, before tacking on, “please.”

She hands them to me begrudgingly, as she does everything, and I open them up, exposing the blades. I bring the goat up closer to me, my hand around his muzzle. 

I take a breath and run one of the blades across the throat, cutting hard and deep. He can’t make a sound; I’ve prevented him from it. I grab his bleeding neck firmly and after counting to three to myself, I bend it backwards with all the strength I can muster.

I know it’s morbid to say this, but the cracking of his spinal column sounds nice in my ears. You know he’s gone when you hear the cracking.

I look up at Toni expectantly as she staggers backwards a little. Her mouth is wide open. She can’t speak.

“Y-you… you just… you just killed it,” she finally stammers, hot blood running through my fingers. “You… you did it so fast.”

“I know,” I respond, tossing the scissors aside, “it’s better to put it out of its misery as quickly as you can. You’re not meant to keep the animal in suspense; that’s just plain cruel.”

I grin at her and meet her gaze as I put on my sweetest pageant voice and say—

“You wouldn’t like to be teased like that, now, would you, Toni?”

Her eyes go wide and she gawks at this, then shuts her mouth.

I know what I’m doing to her.

I drop the goat and I stand up, towering over her. “Do I scare you, Toni?” I ask.

“No,” she croaks, her voice wavering. She clears her throat and steadies herself before she adds, “Why would I be scared of you, indoor princess?”

I get up close to her, right in her face, and lick the blood right off my pointer finger like she did with that goddamn mussel: I’m putting on a real show, rolling my eyes back, getting my body into it, acting like it tastes real good. 

I know what I’m doing to her.

“You have to drink some blood from the first kill of a species,” I explain. “This was my first goat.”

“What about Marty’s?” Toni’s voice has gone shaky again.

“Doesn’t count. Her kill.” 

I bring my thumb up to her mouth and take hold of the back of her head with my other hand. “Taste it,” I offer.

“No, you psycho,” she rejects, squirming. “It was your… kill.”

“Your trap,” I remind her. “And you have to do _whatever_ I say, remember?”

“Shelby, I’m not—”

Mid-sentence, I force my thumb into her mouth, slowly dragging it down her tongue and over her bottom teeth, my eyes locked with hers.

It comes out clean.

She swallows.

“Good girl,” I say quietly, holding her face with the rest of my bloody fingers.

I know what I’m doing to her.


End file.
